


Space Diseases

by GreatWhiteShark



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Death, F/M, One Shot, Zombies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-25 22:14:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14986712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreatWhiteShark/pseuds/GreatWhiteShark
Summary: Space was weird. There's many, MANY new things to discover...odd diseases included. Mix in different species interacting with one another and strange side-effects are bound to happen.(Various x Reader)





	1. Purple Haze (Lotor)

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know science at all, so don't take this too seriously now. It's just something silly I was tossing around with a buddy of mine.

“Loss of _color_ , you say?”

“Uh, yes...actually, if I was to be more precise, I’d say...mono-color?”

Coran had the most expressive eyebrows you have seen and, while he arched it to and fro in curiosity, you tried your best to remain as still as possible under his scrutinizing gaze. Your current situation was...how do you say back on Earth? A Twilight Zone phenomenon? Ah, yes, that was a suitable term for it. Still, no oddball title would push down the flush of pink dusting your cheeks.

Not that you COULD tell if your cheeks were pinkened. After all, the only color you could actually see was purple. _Everything_ was purple. The castle floors, Shiro’s poof of bangs, and even the scrumptious food goo seemed to have been dyed in the same color. Albeit there were different shades of it, you were quite concerned that this...effect would not go away on its own.

Hence, Coran. He was like...the castle doctor, right?

“Hm, you know, my great grand pappy once had a sickness that changed his eye colors, one blue, one yellow,” here he goes, tangenting off again, “Of course, it didn’t affect his eyesight one bit, no _sir_. Let me see, what was it again that caused him to-OH YES, he was bitten by a strange space rodent! Nasty thing, really, but thankfully-”

Maybe blinking faster would help you sit through Coran’s fascinating story? You know there was an ending there somewhere, but waiting for it while you worried over yourself was putting you slightly on the more impatient side. “Panicking won’t help,” you kept reminding yourself, and yet, here you are, fretting that this purple haze might be a permanent thing you would have to live with for the rest of your days.

“My point is, were you bitten recently? Or eaten anything odd? Perhaps your body reacts differently to certain diseases found in space,” Coran pointed matter-of-factly with his index finger, “Now, I know those rascally mice can get testy sometimes, but if they-”

Oh. Damn.

God- _damn_ …!

You were no longer paying attention to what he was blabbering about. Instead, your body heated up like you were caught red-handed as your widened gaze fell upon the tall Galra/Altean who stood a few feet behind Coran. Prince Lotor’s panther-like stare was locked on yours and the usual stern line of his lips was...quirked up. Just for a second. Though that shit-grin was all the confirmation you needed to understand that the both of you instantly knew what vital piece of information Coran could not have possibly known. You two were thinking the same thing, though feeling _very_ different about the situation at hand.

Prince Lotor? Felt smug and slightly aroused. You? Horrified and humiliated.

Flashbacks of the events that happened a mere hour ago rose to the surface. Lotor’s larger body eagerly pressed against yours while his hands explored new territory, your lips merged with his through a dangerous dance of tongues, the sharp fangs lightly scratching down your offered neck in erotic restraint...that _pleasurable_ sting when he clamped his jaw and marked you with his first bite of the night. You had no doubt he would’ve carried on for many hours to come had you not stopped him with your confused whisper of “Was your hair...always purple?”

“Coran,” your voice was a squeak, strained in embarrassment, which wasn’t lost on the Prince as Lotor’s grin grew wide enough to show off his troublemaker fangs, “I-uh, I was bitten, yes, I just remembered…”

Which wasn’t a LIE, but fuck, Lotor’s smoldering gaze wasn’t helping you keep yourself together. You were sure this was _greatly_ amusing him, actually. Coran snapped his attention back to you, his story put on a halt as you instinctively brought a hand up to cover your neck. Surely he didn’t need to know, right? Or..perhaps he already did know? You bit your lower lip, now further worried that he would tell the Paladins and the Princess of your naughty escapades-

“A-HA! No worries, I’ll whip up an antidote in two doboshes!” cue signature snap of his fingers as if he just solved all of Voltron’s color-coding problems, Sherlock-style, “Say, you don’t happen to know what bit you, do you? It’d be a good idea to start uploading these incidents in the castle logs for future references-”

“ _Nope_ , no idea at all,” you answered a little too quickly, feeling like your heart was going to crumble under this situation you found yourself in, “Sorry I can’t help you out there, Coran. I’d appreciate the antidote right away.”

Prince Lotor got that glint in his eyes, the one that said, “I’m going to have to punish you for lying.”

As if he was any help at all! The second Coran had walked out to retrieve your vital key out of purple hell, Prince Lotor calmly stepped closer to you. Those click-clack of his damn boots tingled in your ears and when he halted in front of you, his gloved fingers lifted your chin up to meet his tinted gaze. You were tempted to look anywhere else-the ceiling, the stars drifting pass the windows, even the space dust floating around aimlessly-but his deep chuckle made sure to keep your attention on him and only him.

“How curious,” he started with a barely recognizable hint of playfulness in his voice, his piercing eyes catching the way your palm rubbed at the bite mark he proudly left on your neck, “I had no idea that a simple bite would cause such a _massive_ change on your body.”

Prince Lotor leaned over you and took note of the way you tensed up, both of you disregarding how unprofessional this may look to any sudden intruders. He suppose the risk, the chance, was a small thrill he enjoyed dragging you through. Lotor especially liked seeing you flustered, both in private and in public. This new discovery with his love bites had only fueled him on even more and he was definitely going to use this to his advantage. His cheek slid over yours in a smooth, lover’s caress while those alluring lips whispered one sentence that made you swallow down your nervousness...and your creeping arousal.

“I can not say I have any regrets about it, however. In fact, I intend to leave _many_ more.”


	2. Sweet Tooth (Lotor)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Lotor's turn to be picked on.

Prince Lotor was a man of many things. He was intelligent, cunning, _cautious_ ; all traits well-suited for an heir to the Galra throne. Being raised under Zarkon and his iron rule on the empire taught the young prince several skills that shaped him into the commander he was today. Lotor was ruthless where it counts, he knew how to play his cards, and had no qualms with taking a life in a battle. He had class, he could control himself as well as his generals, though right now? Right now, maybe there was an... _urge_.

On his throne, his leg was shaking up and down in slight impatience. All his generals took notice of his odd composure, but it was Acxa who decided to approach him. “With caution,” she reminded herself. If anything, perhaps the adrenaline was still coursing through his veins from their last mission? Or the pressure of Voltron encroaching onto Galra territory was beginning to weigh in on him? It could be a number of things she had no insight about, though that didn’t stop her from continuing her job as being HIS general.

Once she was a few feet away, her sharp eyes noted how his damaged armor was missing here and there. She also noticed...a sizable bite mark on the inside of his arm. It looked infected, though Acxa couldn’t remember seeing any animal attack him on their recent mission. Yes, there were swords clashing and guns ablazing, but not a beast in sight. She cleared her throat, pulling Prince Lotor out of his thoughts as his piercing eyes honed in on her slender face.

“Sir,” she began with the utmost respect laced in her voice, “All prisoners have been boarded and we are ready for take off. We had few casualties in the battle and they are being treated in the _medbay_.”

Maybe her voice emphasized “medbay” a little more sternly to try and pressure him to get his arm looked at.

“Thank you, Acxa. Chart a course to Diad’ix galaxy. We will be visiting a little planet called Cyleus,” he ordered with a slightly strained tone due to his teeth grinding together, “That will be all.”

In all honesty, he needed rest. This new...disease coursing through him was troublesome and he would not risk his health when his plans were JUST starting to fall into place. There was a doctor there, a good doctor he knew very well, who could help him with his predicament. What problem was it? He certainly couldn’t outright tell his generals when this was clearly something he could handle on his own. Simply put, he had a _craving_. An _urge_ for his next fix. An _addiction_.

A... _lusting_ for something sweet. For candy, for milkshakes, for sugar, for something to satisfy his sweet tooth.

The man was actually _sweating_ in restraint! He pushed his hair behind his ears, trying to recall where this strange sickness came from. The mission started out well enough. His plan was to rescue you and your crew, one of the unlucky coalition soldiers who got captured by his ruthless Galra commanders. Mind you, got captured by one of his Galra commanders who did not see Lotor as a prince nor heir to the Emperor Zarkon. Due to this and his status, Prince Lotor had to stage the rescue as if he was part of this father’s enemy attempting to free captured war refugees.

It worked, but there was a problem. To you, all you knew was that another Galra was going to take you captive. Sell you on the black market? Enslave you until death? Eat you? You didn’t know, so of course, you fought. You fought tooth and nail, not once believing that your savior had pure intentions with you and the other captives. In the midst of it all, between fighting you and the sentries trying to foil Lotor’s plans, he had managed to grab you in a strong chokehold.

“ _Stop_ , I am not your enemy!” he remembers yelling, trying to reason with a stubborn person like yourself, “Cease your struggling lest I-”

And then you _bit_ him. Bit him like an enraged animal ready to tear through life and death just to survive. You didn’t relent when he let out a pained grunt, nor when he started yanking your hair to pry your teeth off of him. From an outside point of view, perhaps this would’ve been comical to see. The great Prince Lotor struggling to subdue a defenseless prisoner in his convoluted rescue mission. The pain was intense and he knew you could taste his blood flooding your mouth by now. It seemed as though you were ready to chew through his entire arm!

Prince Lotor couldn’t have that. So, in a reckless decision, he brought the hilt of his sword down harshly on the back of your head and successfully knocked you out. He would salute you on your resilient hold and how you had actually managed to WOUND him. Barbaric, true, but it worked. His generals and crew gathered all the prisoners they could and brought them upon his ship. Lotor personally dragged, er, carried your unconscious body into your own metal cell. He half debated about ordering one of his generals to put a damn muzzle on you like the dog you were.

Lotor’s eyes opened after his thoughts ended. Did you perhaps have venom or was your saliva deadly to his kind? That could explain everything. It wasn’t like he didn’t get his current vaccinations up to date...but there was no vaccine that could make him immune to everything. Fuck, he wanted honey. He wanted to _gorge_ himself on the syrupy concoction, dunk his entire face in a pot of the gooey gold. The thought alone had his mouth salivating and he had to cover his lips so no one saw him drool. Prince Lotor suddenly stood up from his seat when his unruly mind began breaking his inner will.

With hastened footsteps, Lotor reached the doors to your cell and commanded the guards to let him through. He folded his hands behind himself, both to show his authority and to hide his still tenderly, wounded arm. Lotor couldn’t show you how much your bite afflicted him. As he stepped through with his head held high and menacing boots announcing his arrival, the first thing he heard was...munching. So, you were awake. _Good_. Now he could finally interrogate you and demand to know what venom you injected-

Oh...his nose twitched. He could smell it from here. It was sugar. _Very_ potent sugar. His keen sense of sweet smelling delicacies was heightened and he couldn’t help but lick his lips in want. Control was waning and he must! Resist! _Temptation_!

You stopped eating your last meal and stared up at the mighty Prince Lotor. Stiff, stock still, but eyes quite focused on your huddled form. No, not you entirely...he was eyeing the chocolate smudged all over your mouth. It was right there, on the corner of your mouth, and he could just-he _wanted_ to just lick it off you, maybe even nibble your lower lip to imitate the texture of a firm chocolate bar. Lotor swallowed thickly and he suddenly realized it was slowly getting harder to control his breathing. With every breath, he could taste the sweetness in the air coat his tongue, tease him, beckon him to give in, to _satisfy_ his crazed hunger.

And you, you weren’t moving. You were prey, just waiting there, oblivious to whether or not you knew of the little problem you oh-so-generously bestowed upon him. You warily watched him kneel before you, the sudden action making you jolt back a bit in fear. He was unpredictable, it showed in his dangerous eyes. Lotor leaned closer to you, just shy a few inches from your lips, and you feared making any noise in front of him. Was he testing you? Scrutinizing your every miniscule expression? Is this an interrogation trick?

“What have you done to me…” his voice was thick, heavy with unbridled hunger as if he was dying of thirst.

Something changed then. Prince Lotor sounded...weak. Strained. He was holding back and part of you worried he was going to snap any second now. A plan formulated in your head. Now was the time to escape! He was injured and if you were quick enough, you could hit him across his temple and make a rush for the exit. You could take out the guards quick enough if they were distracted and...and what was that sliding down your arm?

“W-what are you…?” your question trailed off when Lotor pinned you with a heated stare.

The Prince trailed his hand down to your wrist, gripping it firmly with his fingers, then brought it up between the both of you. Halfway unwrapped in crinkled foil and paper was the delectable bane of his existence: chocolate. He didn’t know Hershey’s, but the smell...it made him shudder in _want_. He couldn’t hold back any second longer and, in the privacy of the cell, he finally indulged his hidden, shameful desire. Lotor began gorging himself out of the palm of your hand, panting heavily and with no coordination of his princely title whatsoever.

All you could do was stare in shock at the wild look behind his eyes. The way he scarfed down the delicacy as if he had found the forbidden fruit of the Gods was both arousing and frightening. Frightening because THIS was the Galra heir to the throne, the same throne that subjugated their prisoners to the worst possible torture imaginable. He was eating so fast and you did see those threatening fangs of his bite a little too close to your thumb. Half of you worried he would eat your hand while he was at it.

And yet, the way he was licking your fingers made you flustered. His warm, slick tongue wrapping _eagerly_ around your index finger and those wet, sucking noises were absolutely filthy in the silence of the cell. Was he aware of how erotic his raw hunger looked right now? Did he know that the more he lapped messily at the melted goo between the crevices of your fingers only made you shiver in odd delight?

“Oh…” he moaned lowly, almost growling, before finally breaking away after indulging himself for a few seconds longer than what was considered proper, “That was... _divine_ …”

Was his urge sated? Absolutely not, if his half-lidded, smoldering gaze was anything to go by. Prince Lotor was still lost in his desire for the sweet, foreign taste of chocolate and his next fix was currently on your lips. Without sparing a second thought, he cupped your face with his hands and kissed you in feverish need. He still had that accursed craving coursing through his veins and his mind was clouded to the brim with this delicious lip-lock. Lotor paid no attention to his overheating body at all, nor did he reign in control over how improper it was to, ah, _indulge_ his prisoners.

You had no time to even process how a prince from your enemy was currently giving you the best kiss of your life. The heart in your chest was beating so fast, you wouldn’t be surprised if he heard it with those elegant ears of his. The way he moved his lips sensually over yours had your mind in a tizzy. Was this how he broke his prisoners? With the art of seduction? It was...definitely a possibility now that you got to experience it first hand. Lotor’s body was so firm against yours and his palms felt like a warm, toasty fire in the chill of deep space. It was difficult to pull away, even as his tongue lapped lazily at the corner of your lips.

“Give me _more_ …” Prince Lotor tugged at your lip with his fangs, drinking in the pleasurable groan that escaped your throat, “I _demand_ it…ah...”

He was panting like a dog now, pressing his towering form more insistently against you in hopes that somehow, you could grant him his desperate demands. Before you could answer, his mouth was upon yours once again, those dark eyes of his clenched close in strain while his tongue slipped through your lips. Lotor could taste it, taste the lingering sugar coating your wet muscle, and he found it absolutely _intoxicating_. He felt drunk off of you.

Prince Lotor wanted, _needed_ more, but it was too late before he realized his body could not handle it. The addicting sugar, the fever that came with this foreign infection, it weakened him to the point where he had to break the kiss. You were finally able to catch your breath in the haze of lust, yet Lotor seemed exhausted. Sickly, even. Now, his skin was clammy and before you could get a questioning word out, the mighty Prince Lotor let out a pained grunt, swayed slightly...and suddenly passed out.

“L-Lotor?!” you were crushed under him, trapped under his body that felt like was exerting more heat than usual, “ _Prince Lotor?!_ ”

Did you...just kill the coalition’s enemy with a sugar rush?


	3. Star Freckles (Keith)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd apologize for being slow but honestly i was off reading every lotor x reader i could find on tumblr so.................now i have a lot of ideas. also i hc that lotor has star freckles that only glow in the night/dark. since yknow he's part of a star-faring race. 
> 
> dreamworks, give me more lore about star-faring races pls im desperate

You tried not to stare, you really did. But how could you not? They were glowing and tiny and...beautiful. You were always told that staring was rude, yet you thought that maybe, well, in this context, it was a form of flattery, right? It should be a compliment. You were so attracted, so dazed in awe, that you simply could not pull your gaze away from these small, sparkly dots. The lumpy spot you were laying on wasn’t bad, either. 

“Is it...like, a Galra thing?” ever the eloquent speaker, you were. 

Keith’s lips almost pouted and his eyes blanked at your face, which was precariously close to his own. You were laying on top of him rather comfortably, enjoying what you deemed “making up missed quality time.” What better place to relax in each other’s company than his impeccably clean room? It was always empty, save the sound of you two shuffling and cuddling on his bed. Not...that he’d tell anyone how much he really enjoyed having you close to him like this. That’s a secret he’d like to keep for himself because he knew Lance would never stop teasing him about it if he got wind of Keith being on bottom.

“No, not a ‘Galra thing’ or anything like that,” his dark eyes watched your thumb come up and gently trace his cheeks in fascination, “...But...do you like them?”

Now, you offered him the softest smile you could in confirmation, “Yeah, they’re like...freckles. Star freckles...”

You don’t know when Keith got them and he didn’t indulge you on your quest for knowledge one bit. Was it a...Blade of Marmora ritual, perhaps? Or did he have a puberty spurt thing? Either way, the fact that these little stars resting on his handsome face only came out in the dark simply enamored you. Glow in the dark freckles...these would be the best night light to sleep next to. It was like a mini galaxy dusting over the bridge of his nose and, if you truly studied them, you were sure you could make out a constellation or two.

“Hmm…” you got impossibly closer to his face, those warm arms you loved loosely pressing your body with his, “How the heck do I get something like that?” 

Keith didn’t respond this time. He was too lost in the way your lips ghosted so close to his, so close, so tempting. He missed the feeling of your kisses anywhere on his body. Neck, cheek, mouth, they made him feel, well, oddly safe. They made him feel like all that mattered was you and him at this moment, that the Blades, the war, the fighting, nothing existed outside this little haven you created with him. Stress? Didn’t exist when your hand would thread through his hair like cool water on heat-stroked leaves. 

As if the space deities heard his wish, you graced Keith with soft, adoring kisses. Not on his lips, no, but rather...on his cheeks, on his freckles. Each one deserved a kiss in your mind. If it was up to Keith, he would secretly wish for double of that. The warm, stirring in the pit of his stomach grew tenfold in the intimate air between the two of you. He closed his eyes and enjoyed what grace you were bestowing upon him. To you, after all he has gone through, all he has grown into, these kisses were little reminders to him that you would be there for him. Thick or thin. Near or far. Safety and danger. 

And, as fate would have it, he loved you for it. 

*

“Hey, buddy, c’mere,” Keith patted his thigh, calling his loyal space wolf to come to his side. 

Glancing around to make sure no one was spying on him, he kneeled over once his four legged friend approached him with a wagging tail. Cupping the wolf’s face, Keith gave a few well-deserved pats, then smiled at the shining eyes greeting him back. Of course, he never told you his secret to those “star freckles” you so aptly named them. And the main reason for that? Well...because they weren’t freckles at all. 

“Okay, here’s what I need you to do…” Keith traced a thumb over his own nose, “I need you to sneeze on me again.”

They were flecks of space wolf snot.


	4. Space Zombies (Lance)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so how bout that s6................

“Dude, shut up. They do NOT exist.”

“Yeah-huh! They SO do! C’mon, big galaxy? You tellin’ me they aren’t out there?”

You flicked a popcorn right at Lance’s forehead, watching in amusement as it bonked and fell to the floor of the dark room. Tonight was movie night and, per his request, the two of you found the cheesiest zombie flick available in the vast known universe. This was a weekly ritual between the both of you, not only because he managed to woo you with his absolutely terrible flirting, but because this was also a way to normalize “space dates,” as he likes to call them.

“We’ve seen mermaids, rock people, CAT people…” Lance counted off with each finger, “Let’s not forget that...whatever Bii-Boh-Bi is. I bet you anything that space zombies exist.”

Scoffing at his rather bold claim, you tucked yourself under his arm and rest your head against his chest while the holographic screen rolled the credits. Lance’s cheeks heated up when you cuddled up besides him, a casual arm gently tethering you to his lanky body. Cryptids and myths aside, you knew Lance was marginally right. Space was big and a majority of it wasn’t even discovered yet, even with the most advanced Altean technology of this time.

“Even so! Isn’t there, like, a cure already? Maybe?” came your inquisitive question, “I mean, yeah, Earth doesn’t have anything like that...we’re too primitive compared to, well, literally any other planet. The only thing we CAN do is, y’know…”

A hand came up and you made the universal sign of a gun, little “p-chew, p-chew” sound effects pulling a fond smile from Lance’s lips. God, that was adorable, YOU were adorable, and he couldn’t resist laying a quick smooch on the top of your head. Now, it was your turn to blush that cute hue of red. Was he always such a romantic? Must be the popcorn, or the very least, this suave date idea that truly made you feel like you were at home. Like you were on Earth and not floating through space in a weird alien castle slash ship.

“No way a little pistol would kill a zomb. That’s what I call zombies now, zomb,” he quickly explained while you rolled your eyes at his blathering, “I’m the team sharp shooter! I’ll be like those _badasses_ with the scopes, y’know? Saving civis left and right with super accurate headshots!”

“Super accurate, you say?” you challenged him with a grin, “Let’s see you put those skills to the test. Up for some Left 4 Dead?”

“Oh, you’re on! Check it, I’ll call it now that I’ll be getting most headshots by the end of the game. Watch and learn, I’ll show ya that I _know_ what I’m doing.”

*

“You know what to do, don’t you?”

Lance couldn’t answer. He didn’t want to, not when he could hear the wet, bloodied cough ring in his ears. Not when he saw that crazed, undead monster take a chunk of flesh out of your neck. Not when he knew that the inevitable was coming, and it was coming _very_ soon. Every nerve in his body was shot and he couldn’t move from his spot. His safe spot, his perch high on the top of the stairs, while you laid on the ground surrounded by zombies. Some were dead, for sure. No brain, no function. Some were still clinging to the false image of life.

“-Lance? Ple-” your voice was gruesome now, deeper, pleading and in pain, “ _Please_. You know-you _gotta_ …I don’t wanna be a-”

The begging is what finally pushed him to cry silent tears of fear. Fear for you, fear for himself, fear for what he was going to do. He barely heard his teammates running behind him, calling for him to hurry up before the infected overwhelmed them all. It was a mistake. He thought you were ahead of him, thought you were safe. Did Shiro know you were down? Did anyone but him notice when you fell behind? God, there were-there were _too_ many of them, too many of those cursed zombies, and Lance didn’t have enough bullets.

Though, he only needed one to save you.

You couldn’t see his face, he was much too far from your sight. Damn sharpshooter, but...you were also relieved. He was safe, he wasn’t in danger of these horrid infected even touching him. Half of you was happy he would make it. Half of you...was terrified knowing you wouldn’t. Was he scared too? Did-could he hear how _scared_ you were? Biting your bottom lip, the burning sensation in your neck grew twice as fast and you swear you could taste the black virus rushing through your veins by now. Lance’s scope zoomed in on your tear-streaked face, though his sight was heavily compromised with heartbroken tears as well.

“I don’t wanna be eaten…” you were sobbing now, _wheezing_ and afraid of taking that first step into the unknown, “I don’t-Lance...Lance, _please_ , can you- _ugh-_ can you make it...make it quick…”

His finger was on the trigger. He could fulfill your last wish. He could save you and lose you in a blink of an eye. He could forfeit his future with you to save the pain and suffering you were in now. Lance couldn’t breath. His finger hesitated, logic fighting against his heart, but deep down he knew what he had to do.

“I’m sorry...I’m so, _so_ sorry....”

“Lance-”

The sharpshooter’s aim was loud and true, but no matter what he did now, he will never get the image of your vacant, dead eyes out of his mind.


End file.
